


as good a place to fall as any

by reduxcadeaux (erosindomita)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of canon typical violence, Post-Time Skip, Romance, bit of a sylvain character study, general route is the same byleth is just less prominent in everyone's emotional development, just slightly though - Freeform, this is just 20k words of me trying to make these stupid lions talk about their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erosindomita/pseuds/reduxcadeaux
Summary: Dimitri might as well be a walking corpse when he comes back to them all.Sylvain decides to start hanging out with him anyways.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 108





	as good a place to fall as any

**Author's Note:**

> this is very self indulgent and very sylvain-centric. major plot points (the general sequence of battles, canonical deaths, etc) are still in place, and byleth is still present + has sothis, but sylvain has that inexplicable anime protagonist rapport with everyone, and he’s the one who supports dimitri the most. the primary focus is on sylvain and his relationships with the other lions. not so much an alternative universe as it is a. universe alteration, I guess?
> 
> as I write this, it’s a day before I plan to publish this labor of love after months of it being a half baked wip. it’s kind of nerve wracking to share something so personal to me with other people, but I hope that you enjoy it.

-

Seeing Dimitri in the flesh again is surreal. It hadn’t been too long ago that Sylvain had feared they might’ve been hunting down a dead man, but Dimitri is still breathing. He’s alive, albeit in the loosest sense of the word.

He’s also very much not okay. That much was obvious from the first few moments they saw him. And Dimitri’s earlier brutality stands out in even starker relief now that Sylvain is watching him just… Stand. And stare. He’d had these sorts of moments in the past, even as a child, even before Duscur- this fog that would overtake him for brief spells of time. Pulling Dimitri back into himself never used to require anything other than patience and a bit of peace and quiet.

As he stands before them now, back hunched, Areadbhar clutched in his fist, vacant gaze trained on the debris in front of him, he’s nearly unrecognizable.

Sylvain decides that he could probably use some company.

Five years after he’d disappeared, five years after news of his execution as punishment for supposed regicide, five years of no one knowing for certain whether or not he was alive, Sylvain calls out Dimitri’s name.

Dimitri ignores him.

-

Dimitri does not stop ignoring him.

-

So apparently Dimitri is ignoring everyone.

“He just stares at rocks all day!” Annette cries. “I thought maybe I could try making him something to eat since I don’t know what to say to him, but I’m not sure what he’d like…” Her shoulders droop.

Sylvain can’t help smiling fondly at how animated Annette is when she speaks. Earlier that day she’d asked him for his thoughts on a particularly difficult old tome that she’d procured from goddess knows where, which is how he’s found himself sitting in the corner of the library with her over tea, but their scholarly discussion ended up trailing towards the subject of their listless prince. It’s been about a week since Dimitri’s return, and he’s still weighing on everyone’s minds. “He sure does spend a lot of time in that one spot, huh?”

Annette nods, setting her teacup down with a sigh. “I keep getting the feeling that sometimes he just… can’t hear us. But sometimes he’s just being stubborn and refusing to talk!” she huffs.

“Such astute observations,” Sylvain praises. “I’d expect nothing less.”  
  
“Of course, I- wait, are you teasing me?!”  
  
Sylvain laughs lightly and shakes his head. “No, no, I really mean it. His Highness used to space out in a… less obvious manner, back in school. I don’t know how many people picked up on it back then. The only difference now,” he muses, absently swirling his tea in his cup, “Is that it’s out in the open. And worse.”

Annette’s gaze is focused as she listens. “I see… Um, so in school, was there anything that helped when he got like this? Anything that might help him now?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sylvain sighs. “If you’re asking how to snap him out of it, I don’t have an answer for you. I just tried to treat him normal, you know? Hang out with him, keep him out of his own head, try not to force him to talk… That sort of thing. He’d come back eventually.”

Annette rests her chin on her palms, drumming her fingers against her face. “Maybe we should just keep doing that, then? He was alone for a really long time, after all. It’s probably strange for him, being surrounded by people again.”

Sylvain shrugs. “It’s better than just letting him brood all day.”

“Mmhm! But if he’s not in the mood to talk, I was thinking… Oh, it’s a little silly, but I thought that it might be easier to do something with him. Like weaving flower crowns!”

“Flower crowns.”  
  
Annette huffs. “Yes, flower crowns! I know he probably won’t make one himself, but being around flowers is soothing. If I can’t convince him to come to the greenhouse, then we’ll just have to bring the flowers to him.”

“Mm… Well, why not? It’s worth a shot,” Sylvain concedes.

“Perfect!” Annette says brightly. “I’ll get the flowers ready and you can bring them to him.”  
  
Sylvain feigns shock. “What, by myself? And here I thought you wanted us to do this together. I’m hurt.”

Annette pauses, looking aside as she nervously toys with a lock of her hair. “That’s… I want to help, I really do, but…” She glances around, as if she’s scouting out to ensure that they’re alone before she continues. “I’m a little scared.”  
  
Sylvain feels a pang of… something. Something that makes his chest tighten, that makes anxiety pool in his stomach. Some latent instinct to want to defend Dimitri mixed with protectiveness over someone as sweet and earnest as Annette feeling fearful. It’s difficult to unravel, and he’s not about to try.  
  
“I’m not scared of Dimitri!” she exclaims, waving her hands frantically. “I know he wouldn’t hurt me! I’m just scared of… Of saying something wrong, or making things worse, and you know him better than I do.”

“Aw,” Sylvain tuts. “I doubt you could make anything worse even if you tried.”  
  
Annette offers him a soft smile. “I’m happy you think so.”

He grins back at her over the rim of his teacup and takes a small sip. “As long as it’s nothing in the kitchen, anyways.”  
  
“Hey!”

-

Sylvain ends up agreeing to propose the flower crown idea to Dimitri alone, which is how he’s found himself striding up to his Highness with a basket of plants. He can practically feel the questioning gazes of onlookers boring holes into him as he goes. From what he can tell, Dimitri has barely responded to any normal attempts at conversation (or to Felix’s stubbornly silent glares, for that matter), so he’s hoping that this shift in tactics will catch his attention. Even if just for a moment.

The greeting that Sylvain calls out as he approaches is less of a polite formality and more so insurance against Dimitri thinking that someone is trying to sneak up on him. As per usual, he doesn’t respond.

Sylvain is not going to let himself be scared of Dimitri. He’s not. But he’s still grappling with just how unhinged the last five years left him, and it’s even more difficult to contend with the fact that this anger and paranoia could have very well been lurking under the surface long before Dimitri had disappeared. Maybe if someone had done something, reached out to him and convinced him to let his carefully constructed mask slip before it could be yanked off by force, then he wouldn’t be in such a state now when they need him most. Whatever revulsion he feels at the sight of Dimitri’s reckless, bloodthirsty presence on the battlefield is ever so slightly tamed by the nagging sense of guilt that someone should’ve helped him before the world came crashing down around them.

If dating has taught him anything, it’s that belated occasions are best atoned for with flowers.

“I was thinking,” he starts, his tone nonchalant. Dimitri hasn’t shown any indication that he plans on acknowledging Sylvain’s presence, but Sylvain’s getting used to that. “You don’t really get much time to kick back during a war, yeah? So I figured it might be fun to see if I remember how to make a flower crown.”  
  
The movement is so quick that he nearly misses it, but Sylvain is certain that he sees Dimitri’s eye flash towards him for an instant. And he’s certain that he’s not imagining it when Dimitri’s stare loses just a bit of it’s hard edge as it’s trained back on the pile of rubble in front of them.

Sylvain hooks the basket in the crook of his arm to free up his hands and plucks out a few flowers that seem to have relatively sturdy stems. “I’d offer to make you one, but let’s find out if I can actually do this first. I don’t wanna make a promise I can’t keep,” he says breezily. To his mild surprise he finds that his hands start to work without him needing to think about it, his fingers deftly weaving the delicate stems together. The repetitive movement is rather pleasant, actually; it reminds him of the few and far between moments of his childhood that he’d had the luxury of actually feeling like a child. It’s almost enough to allow him to forget his surroundings.

But Dimitri’s looming presence is almost suffocating, even if he’s just standing there. Sylvain isn’t too nervous, though; he’s always been good around strangers.

“Y’know, this is easier than I remember it being,” he comments. “I might be able to make you one after all.”  
  
“Waste of time.”  
  
Sylvain nearly drops his flowers.

Dimitri’s voice is stilted and rasping, rough with disuse. “Don’t waste your time.”

It takes Sylvain a moment to realize that he hasn’t responded. “Aw, buddy, time spent with a friend is never wasted,” he says with a lopsided grin, and takes a chance on lightly bumping Dimitri’s shoulder with his own.

Dimitri makes a noise low in his throat, but doesn’t speak again. And when Sylvain finishes the crown and moves to place it on his head, he offers no resistance.

-

Sylvain takes his leave not long after finishing Dimitri’s flower crown. The entire encounter went better than he’d hoped, and he thinks it best not to push his luck any further than he already has. He’s debating as to whether or not to tell Felix and Ingrid about it when a pleasantly familiar voice calls out to him from behind.

“That looked like it went well.”  
  
Sylvain turns, feeling himself relax as soon as he sees who it is. “You think?”  
  
Mercedes nods, a gentle smile on her face. Sylvain hadn’t noticed her earlier; he wonders how much she saw. “I do. Talking with an old friend should do him some good.”

“He didn’t exactly… say much,” Sylvain admits, rubbing the back of his head. “I just got him to notice me.”

“Perhaps, but now he knows that you aren’t afraid of him. Everyone skulks around his Highness so delicately,” she huffs. “He’ll never stop thinking of himself as a monster if we all keep treating him like a wild animal.”  
  
“Do me a favor and tell Felix that.”  
  
Mercedes clucks her tongue. “He’s a bit troublesome, isn’t he? What is it that Ingrid says- a problem child?”  
  
He snorts. “She calls me that too.”

“Yes, yes. She really must care for the both of you.”  
  
“I like to think so.”  
  
“Mm… Oh!” Mercedes exclaims, “that’s right, I’d wanted to ask- would you come join me and Annie in the dining hall? I’ve been experimenting with my baking lately and I’d like your opinion on the results.”  
  
Sylvain flashes her a bright smile in response. “Well, how could I possibly turn down sweet treats from such a sweet lady?”

Mercedes laughs and gently takes his arm. “Come, then. You’ve earned them.”

-

There’s _stuff_ in his hair.

There are bits of dried leaves stuck in Dimitri’s hair, and Sylvain _can’t stop staring._

Sylvain’s visits have started to become regular, and he doesn’t need a basket of flowers as an excuse anymore. Sometimes he only has a few minutes to spare and others he can hang around for an hour or more, but one way or another he makes it a point each day to seek Dimitri out. It’s starting to feel natural to stand by his side and shoot the breeze, talking about everything and nothing as Dimitri stares holes into the ground; he knows that the point is to ease Dimitri back into normal social contact, but Sylvain can’t help thinking it’s sort of nice to be able to talk to someone without judgement like this. That aside, fitting Dimitri into an everyday routine is rendering his presence less foreign and more… not quite comfortable, but normal, at least.

Of course none of that matters right now because _there is stuff in Dimitri’s hair and it’s driving Sylvain crazy._

He considers whether or not it’s worth it to mention. He doubts that Dimitri would care much, and he at least knows that his Highness is bathing periodically enough to be confident that the leaves won’t stay there forever. But by the goddess, they stand out so starkly against Dimitri’s ashy hair and they’d be so easy to brush away…

“You got some leaves stuck in your hair, you know.”  
  
Dimitri doesn’t move.

“They’re not bothering you?”  
  
Nothing.

Sylvain is a weak, weak man.

“Well, they’re kinda distracting. I’m gonna get them, okay?” he says, cautiously lifting his hand. The last thing he wants to do is catch Dimitri off guard with any sudden movements. But he stays still, and he doesn’t flinch when Sylvain’s fingers touch his hair.

So far, so good.

Sylvain gently combs through Dimitri’s surprisingly soft locks, pulling out the leaves as he'd promised and humming to himself as he goes. It's somewhat soothing to focus on the repetitive movement of his hands, the feeling of Dimitri's hair running through his fingers, so much so that even after he's gotten all of the leaves out he can't quite bring himself to stop. And it occurs to him that it’s probably been a long while since anyone has shown Dimitri any sort of physical affection- has it been months? Years, most likely.

Dimitri doesn't seem to react at first, his expression remaining impassive as he’s groomed. He has to realize at some point that Sylvain’s finished with the leaves, doesn’t he?

“I think you’re taller than me now,” he murmurs. “That’s crazy.”

Dimitri’s lack of a verbal response isn’t surprising. But as Sylvain continues, he takes note of the slow but sure way that Dimitri starts to lean into his touch. It isn’t much, just a slight tilt of his head, but it’s the closest thing to relaxed that Sylvain has seen him as so far. He probably hasn’t let his guard down with anyone else, either; just with Sylvain. The thought sends a little rush down his spine.

It’s the first day that Sylvain doesn’t linger out of obligation- he just stays because he can.

-

They all express concern about Dimitri in their own ways, Sylvain observes. As time goes on and everyone slowly starts growing accustomed to their prince’s (still somewhat disconcerting) presence, it’s less a question of “who has the nerve to get near him” and more so “who’s approach is going to get through to him today”. And Sylvain’s earlier persistence starts to pay off, because he’s getting better and better at pulling Dimitri out of his own head- if only for a few moments at a time. Any progress is good progress, as far as he’s concerned.

It would be lovely if Felix saw it the same way.

“What have you been doing with it all this time?” he demands, hands placed firmly on his hips as Sylvain attempts to imperceptibly back away.

“I told you, he’s doing way better-”  
  
“You call that better _?_ ” Felix’s tone is incredulous. “Are we talking about the same beast?”

Beast, he says. Good grief.

Felix carries on, beginning to pace. “You’re coddling it. You’ve seen its bloodlust- and I know you’ve heard how it rambles in the cathedral at night. That is not _better._ ”

“Careful, if you keep going I’m gonna start thinking you’re actually worried about him.”  
  
The statement gets him to pause for a beat.

Sylvain continues quickly, not wanting to give Felix a chance to blow up at him before he gets to say his piece. “Seriously, though, he was gone on his own for five years. _Five years,_ Felix. Everyone thought he was dead and, even if he wasn’t, that he killed the king. And that’s on top of everything else that happened before. I don’t think anyone would be doing so hot if they went through what he did.”  
  
Felix glares at him with a venom that Sylvain grew immune to a long time ago. “If you’re trying to make excuses-”  
  
“It’s not an excuse,” Sylvain says firmly. “It’s just as hard for me to think about all the horrible things he’s done, I promise you. But there’s just no way he’s gonna get fixed overnight, Fe.”

Felix scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. “And I suppose that wasting time weaving flower crowns is going to help?”  
  
Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “If you wanted to join us, you could’ve just said so.”  
  
“I could not think of a worse use of my time if I was being forced to do so with a blade at my throat.”  
  
“This is a lot of attitude for someone who just stares at him from across the courtyard.”

Felix turns, punches Sylvain in the shoulder, and walks away without another word.

-

The subject of Dimitri’s current state isn’t broached between the two of them again, not for a few days, until Felix catches him after dinner one evening.

“Sylvain.”  
  
“Yes dear-?!”

Felix stares at him impassively, hands on his hips, as if he hadn’t just thrown a wooden hairbrush directly at Sylvain’s face. “Take it.”  
  
“Didn’t really give me much of a choice,” Sylvain mutters, rubbing his cheek and hoping that it won’t bruise. “What was that for?”  
  
“Grooming.”

“I’m torn between accepting this gracious gift of yours and being offended that you indirectly called me a dog.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Not you. The boar.”

Sylvain is a little surprised that Felix would bother offering any sort of assistance “coddling” Dimitri, considering how much he’d complained before. He picks the gift - a hairbrush, as it happens - up off the ground, and notes that it’s actually pretty nice; the handle has a pleasant weight to it, made of glossy lacquered wood with swirling lines of violets painstakingly carved into it. The bristles are soft, and as Sylvain turns the brush over in his hand he realizes that it looks… new. Brand new, and not cheap.

Ah.

Why must all of the people that he loves be so difficult.

“Oh, but _I’m_ the one spoiling him,” Sylvain mutters to himself.

“Excuse me?”

Sylvain quickly flashes a bright smile. “Nothing! And really, thank you. I’ll bring this next time I go see him.”  
  
Felix eyes him for a moment longer before he nods and continues on his way.

-

Sylvain gets his chance to put Felix’s gift to use the next day. It’s near sunset by the time he’s able to check in on Dimitri- later than he would’ve liked, but there’s not much he can do about it. He apologizes as he walks up anyways.

“Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting.”  
  
Dimitri hums quietly in response.

“I’ve got something to make up for it- well, it’s technically from Felix, but he asked me to give it to you,” Sylvain says as he holds the brush out. “I, uh, dunno if you wanted to hang onto it or not.”  
  
Silence.

“Or… I can use it on you?”

At that Dimitri tilts his head towards Sylvain, acquiescing without a word.

Sylvain smiles. “You got it. C’mon, let’s go sit-” he starts, but before he can suggest another location, Dimitri promptly takes a seat on the ground. “-down. Alright, boss, whatever you want.”

He ends up kneeling behind Dimitri to get a proper angle. They might look a bit strange like this, but Sylvain and Dimitri’s routine is known to pretty much everyone at this point. It can’t be any more outlandish than Sylvain leaving a clumsy daisy chain on the prince’s head.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he says quietly. He combs his fingers through Dimitri’s hair before taking to it with the brush, starting at the tips and slowly making his way up. He moves delicately, methodically, working out any knots he comes across with care. There aren’t many, thankfully. 

With the grounds almost empty and the sun dipping below the horizon, Sylvain finds himself relaxing. Aimless stories and harmless gossip spill from his lips as he continues; he doesn’t notice the time pass, and he doesn’t really care.

Dimitri is less subtle about the way he leans into him now. It’s almost funny- as much as Sylvain wishes Felix would quit it with the whole “beast” thing, it does sometimes feel like he’s trying to tame a large, ornery dog. Maybe it’s easier for Dimitri to relax when there’s less of an audience? Or maybe-

“It is quiet.”  
  
Hearing Dimitri’s voice off of the battlefield is still a bit of a shock to the system sometimes. Sylvain is rather proud that his hands don’t stutter. “Yeah. Kinda nice, isn’t it?”  
  
“...Sylvain.”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sylvain hums. “I like hanging out with you, man.”

It’s well past nightfall when Sylvain finally takes his leave. The times when he can get a good night’s rest have been few and far between as of late, but he finds that when he retires, sleep comes quickly.

-

“You know if you wanted to go out on a date, my answer is yes.”  
  
“Absolutely not.”

Sylvain should probably be a bit concerned as to why Ingrid might insist on speaking to him in private, considering the sorts of things about which she has no qualms lecturing him on in public. Maybe he’s letting himself get dragged off because of the look on her face when she’d asked him to speak with her alone; she seems less annoyed with him than usual, and it leaves him feeling emboldened to tease once they’re out of earshot of others.  
  
“So cold,” he sighs. “You wound me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she replies, but her tone is fond. Alright, so maybe he really isn’t about to get told off for skirt chasing. He hasn’t really been out and about all that much lately, though, now that he thinks about it. He certainly hasn’t gotten himself any freshly spurned lovers, at very least.

“Well, what else was I supposed to assume? If a pretty girl gets too shy to talk to you when other people could hear her, it usually only means one thing.”

That earns him a glare over her shoulder. They finally come to a stop a short ways away from the stables which, after a cursory check by Ingrid, are confirmed to be empty save for the horses themselves.

Sylvain can’t help himself; Ingrid really does leave herself far too vulnerable to being prodded. “You sure all of them are cleared to hear confidential information?”

“Sylvain, please, don’t make me regret this,” she sighs. Her exasperation is comforting in it’s familiarity, and he feels some tension leave his shoulders.  
  
“Aw, I was only teasing. Come on, I wanna hear what you have to say.”  
  
Ingrid rolls her eyes. “Even when I’m trying to thank you for something, you have to make things difficult.”

Sylvain grins sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s just easy to relax around you,” he says, and he’s pleased to notice how she brightens a bit hearing him say as much.

“That’s only natural, I suppose,” she says with a nod. “Now if you’ll allow me to continue… I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve been doing for his Highness.”

Whatever Sylvain might’ve guessed that Ingrid wanted to discuss when she’d pulled him aside, it wasn’t this. He glances aside. “I don’t know if I’ve really done much that’d warrant any thanks,” he says.

Ingrid shakes her head. “No, you have. He’s still rather… troubled, of course. But when you’re around him, he’s much more relaxed. More present.” She pauses for a moment, gazing off into the distance at nothing. “I should’ve known that if anyone could’ve figured out how to get through to him, it would be you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, really,” he replies, waving his hand dismissively. “Just trying to help out a friend.”  
  
“Stop that,” Ingrid snaps. “Of all the precious few things you take seriously, let this be one of them. Or perhaps I’m wrong, and you don’t care about what happens to his Highness?”

Sylvain winces. Lectures on propriety are so much easier to handle than this. “Are you sure I haven’t done anything to make you mad lately?”  
  
“Ugh. Listen, I…” Ingrid sighs heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I know that you care about him. It’s obvious. I just wish that you wouldn’t pretend to be so aloof sometimes.”

Since when had Ingrid gotten to be so perceptive? Sylvain shifts his weight from one leg to the other, finding himself unable to look her in the eyes. “If I apologize, will you stop yelling at me?”  
  
“ _I'_ _m not yelling!_ ”  
  
“Well, now you are.”  
  
Ingrid groans. “I specifically asked you not to make me regret this. Do you know what you’re doing right now?”  
  
“Am I making you regret this?”  
  
“You are making me regret this. Though unfortunately for the both of us, I still have more to lecture you about.”  
  
Sylvain huffs a laugh and raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, go ahead.”

Ingrid nods. “Yes, I… Well.” She pauses to clear her throat, then crosses her arms. “I wanted to ask if you… If. Hm.”  
  
Odd. It’s not like her to shy away from a chance to rant at him, and she’s already reprimanded him for what she’s deemed a poor attitude, so what else is there?

She’s not meeting his gaze when she next brings herself to speak. “Sylvain, I… I wanted to ask if you’re doing alright.”

Sylvain blinks. “I'm all healed up from our last battle.”  
  
“No, I’m asking if you’re… _feeling_ alright. Emotionally.”  
  
Oh.

“I just mean that you haven’t been getting up to your usual foolishness lately,” she says quickly. “And you’re never forthcoming when anything’s wrong, not when it’s something important, and I’ve been worrying myself sick wondering what sort of messes you’re making that I don’t know about, so- tell me.”  
  
Sylvain rubs at the back of his neck. “We’re in the middle of a war. I don’t think any of us are really alright.”  
  
“Do you assume that I forgot?! I- you-” Ingrid buries her face in her hands. “You make everything so difficult,” she moans. Then she steps forward, lifts her head to look Sylvain in the eyes, and yanks him into a crushingly tight embrace.

Sylvain jolts slightly at the sudden contact, but he returns it nonetheless. He can’t remember the last time she hugged him like this- it has to have been more than a decade ago, at least. “Whoa there, at least let me buy you dinner first,” he says, finding himself stroking her hair on instinct.

“You speak of your own life so callously sometimes,” she says, her voice softer and smaller than he thinks he’s ever heard it before. “And perhaps this makes me a hypocrite, but it scares me. It scares Felix. I don’t even want to entertain the thought of how his Highness would react if you died.”

The hand in her hair stills for a moment before Sylvain resumes his gentle ministrations. “I don’t try to make you worry on purpose, you know,” he murmurs.

“Yet here I am.” A somewhat strangled laugh forces its way out of Ingrid’s throat as she hugs him tighter, as if she’s afraid he might run off. “I need you here. We all need you here. You can be such an insufferable cur when you want to be, but you’ve always looked out for the rest of us. And I never thank you for it, do I?”

It feels wrong, seeing Ingrid so vulnerable. It’s not how their script normally goes. “You don’t need to thank me for anything.”

Ingrid shakes her head. “Yes, I do. I refuse to fight another battle knowing that either of us could die before I could tell you, properly for once, that I’m grateful for you.” She looks up at him, red rimmed eyes set with determination. “Sylvain. I expect you to treat your life as the precious thing that it is from here on out, or else I swear I’ll drag you from death itself just to tell you what for.”

Despite himself and his suspiciously watery eyes, Sylvain laughs. “I think that’s the sweetest threat I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

“Don’t make this difficult, you floozy. I’m trying to be nice.”  
  
“Floozy? My poor maiden’s heart can’t suffer such insults.”

“Clearly we have different definitions of what constitutes a maiden.”

Sylvain laughs again, brighter this time, and rests his chin on the top of her head. “Fair enough. Just warn me next time you’re planning on being nice,” he says. “I’ll have to bring an artist along to capture the moment.”

Ingrid huffs in response, but makes no attempt to shove him off. “You’re impossible.”  
  
“Love you too.”

-

Words still don’t come easily to Dimitri, not when he’s speaking of anything other than the war. He sounds as if he’s just been woken up in the middle of the night when he tries, clumsy and only half aware of his surroundings. By now Sylvain has learned to take it in stride, and he’s more than adept at filling any lulls in conversation (or just at holding them on his own, as is often the case).

They’re sitting in the cathedral this time; the sun has long since sunken below the horizon, and the night air is brisk. Sylvain is regaling Dimitri with gossip he’s heard amongst the kitchen staff- who else can he talk to about how one of their chefs supposedly used to make a living as a mercenary, and stopped when she was hired to kidnap a merchant’s wife but ended up eloping with her instead?

It’s pleasant. Things still aren’t perfect, and they might never be, but Sylvain can honestly say that right now he’s just content to be at his friend’s side. He’s fairly confident that Dimitri feels the same.

Sylvain pauses his retelling of the day’s gossip when Dimitri slowly lifts his free hand and takes Sylvain’s in it. “What’s up, buddy?”

“They are loud.”  
  
“They?”

“They are loud,” he repeats. His grip on Sylvain’ hand tightens; it’s trembling.

 _He’s talking about the ghosts,_ Sylvain realizes with a start.

“They ask why they had to die. And why I did not perish along with them. I am never able to answer.”

Sylvain sucks in a quiet breath. It feels like he’s standing on a cliff’s edge, precariously balanced and one gust of wind away from crashing to the ground. “Sounds rough.”

A low, mournful cry tears it’s way out of Dimitri’s throat. The sound of Areadbhar clattering to the ground echoes through the cathedral as he clutches at his head with one hand, Sylvain’s still firmly clasped in the other. “Forgive me,” he chokes out. “Please, please forgive me.”

Somehow Sylvain doesn’t think that Dimitri is talking to him anymore. “Fuck,” he breathes, maneuvering himself to kneel in front of him without releasing their hands. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”  
  
Dimitri digs his nails into his scalp as he curls in on himself, begging and pleading on repeat as if it’s a prayer.

“Can you hear me, Mitya? I know you said they’re loud… If you can hear me, can you squeeze my hand?”  
  
He does so.

Sylvain exhales a shaky breath. “Good. Great. I’m right here, okay? I’m gonna stay right here with you, I promise.”

Another squeeze.

“You’ve been through a lot, Mitya. It must feel like you’ve got the world on your shoulders, huh?” he says gently. “But you don’t have to face everything alone, no matter what anyone else says.”

Dimitri sways in his seat before lurching forward off of the pew, slumping against Sylvain with all of his weight. He wraps his arms around his torso, clinging desperately, face buried in his shoulder.

“Easy there, buddy. I’ve got you,” Sylvain murmurs, carefully adjusting the both of them so he can sit back comfortably. It’s easier than he would’ve guessed to maneuver Dimitri in his arms, even with his armor- because Dimitri is too light for someone his size. _Fuck,_ he’s way too light. It’s not exactly something they can address immediately, but Sylvain is bringing him food tomorrow.

“...cannot have him.” Dimitri’s voice is muffled against Sylvain’s shoulder.

“Hm?”

Dimitri clings impossibly closer, something that could only be described as a growl rumbling in his chest. “You cannot have him,” he snarls.

Ghosts. Right. “I’m not going anywhere, Mitya. And I know I’m safe with you, right? No matter what happens, we’ll protect each other. Promise.”

Dimitri doesn’t release his grip at all, but his growling slowly but surely begins to abate until the only sounds he’s making are those of his shaking, uneven breaths.

Sylvain hums softly, bringing a hand up to cup the back of Dimitri’s head, and decides that he doesn’t need to mention that he can feel his shoulder growing wet with tears.

-

“These are the ones that don’t need a lot of water, yeah?”  
  
“Correct,” Dedue replies with a nod. “Their roots are prone to rot.”

Sylvain hums in understanding, hands resting on his hips as he watches Dedue go about caring for the various flora surrounding them. Dedue is easy to be around. He always has been, as far as Sylvain is concerned, and the tranquil atmosphere of the greenhouse at dusk combined with his steadfast presence is remarkably soothing. Sylvain needs to swing by here more often.

“Oh, Sylvain’s here.”  
  
Byleth stands in the door to the greenhouse, looking as nonplussed as ever. They greet both men with a nod as they stride in.

Dedue barely glances up. “Your tulips are growing well.”  
  
“Thank you for looking after them,” Byleth says, leaning over so as to intently inspect a patch of the red and yellow flowers.

“It is the least I can do for you.”

“Nice to see you too, Professor,” Sylvain huffs in mock offense. He hears Dedue stifle a quiet laugh, much to his pleasure.

Byleth straightens up, stretching their arms above their head with a small yawn. They walk back over to where Sylvain and Dedue are seated and ruffle Sylvain’s hair. “Sorry. I actually have somewhere else to be, but I’ve been thinking about the flowers all day.”

“I have told you that there’s no need to worry,” Dedue says. “She will appreciate them entirely because they’re a gift from you.”  
  
Sylvain immediately perks up. “Wait, wait, she?”

“I know. I just want to make sure I do this right.”

“Professor, who is _she_ -”

“I am sure that you will.”  
  
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re both doing this on purpose?”  
  
Byleth squishes Sylvain’s face between their hands. “We’ll tell you about it when you’re older,” they say, to which Dedue nods sagely.

“When I’m- Professor, I’m wounded,” Sylvain whines. “You’re wooing a lady and won’t even tell me who she is?”  
  
“If all goes well, then you’ll know soon enough,” Byleth replies. “But I really do have to go. Dedue, thank you again. Please help keep Sylvain out of trouble.”  
  
“Of course.”

Sylvain groans in defeat.

-

They take to Gronder field, and the world shifts.

-

Sylvain thinks to seek Felix out first after the fact, as soon as he has the luxury of doing so, and ends up getting roped into being his sparring partner for the better part of the afternoon. He supposes he should’ve expected as much. Now of all times, he can’t begrudge Felix the opportunity to work out whatever it is that he refuses to say with words.

That doesn’t mean that Sylvain isn’t exhausted by the time Felix relents.

They leave the training grounds in silence. And Sylvain holds his tongue when Felix pulls him aside, out of view of any potential onlookers, and slumps forward- eyes closed, forehead resting against Sylvain’s chest. He’s inhaling and exhaling with a deep, deliberate slowness, his arms hanging motionlessly at his sides. If Sylvain didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed he’d passed out.

He does know better, though, so he wraps an arm around Felix’s shoulders and lets him breathe.

They don’t stay there for very long; even in the freshest possible throes of grief, Felix still isn’t exactly comfortable making himself vulnerable. But it’s better than nothing, and it’s saved Sylvain the trouble of having to start a delicate conversation with him about it. He offers no resistance when Felix pulls away and walks off without another word.

Sylvain sighs heavily once Felix is out of sight. He doesn’t exactly have much room to criticize anyone else for being closed off, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying. He’s lost in thought as he lets his legs carry him elsewhere, so much so that he doesn’t notice someone barrelling down the hall and turning the corner until they crash into his chest.

“Oh, Sylvain! I’m sorry, I should’ve been paying better attention to where I was going,” Ashe says quickly, face flushed with embarrassment.

Sylvain huffs a laugh, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t paying attention either. You okay?”  
  
Ashe nods, running his fingers through his hair. He’s staring at the ground as he speaks. “Yeah… Uh, the reason I was in such a hurry was… That is, I mean… You wouldn’t happen to know where Felix is, would you?”  
  
Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “I might. He’s probably not in much of a mood for talking, though.”

“I know, but…” He glances around as if to confirm they’re alone before he continues. “Well, I was thinking about how hurt and confused I was after Lonato died, and that it felt like no one really understood. It might not be the exact same thing between Felix and his father…” Ashe lifts his head and looks Sylvain in the eyes, determination shining through his earlier nervousness. “But I want him to know that I’m here for him.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”  
  
“I am! I’m sure that I want to help him, at least. Even if I’m not the best at it.”

Sylvain considers this for a moment. Lonato’s rebellion really had been a tragedy, and he can see a few parallels between Ashe’s ill-fated adopted family and Felix’s strained relationship with Rodrigue. That aside… Ashe is nothing if not genuine. He doesn’t doubt that he truly just wants to offer Felix whatever support he's able. Whether or not Felix is going to accept it is a different story entirely, but he supposes that Ashe knows what he’s getting himself into. “That’s very thoughtful. I’m kinda surprised Felix managed to get someone as sweet as you so worried about him,” he says with a grin.

Ashe frowns, even as his face goes red. “He deserves to have people looking out for him.”  
  
Sylvain laughs and tweaks Ashe’s ear. “Right you are. Me and him just wrapped up sparring, so you’ll probably catch him in the dining hall if you hurry. Don’t tell him I told you.”

Ashe brightens immediately. “I won’t!” He starts to rush off down the corridor, but skids to a stop a few feet away and whirls back around. “Wait, Sylvain?”  
  
Sylvain tilts his head in question. “Yeah?”  
  
“His Highness was looking for you. I ran into him earlier- he said that I should ask you if I wanted to know where Felix was, and he wanted me to tell you to go see him where you two usually meet, if you had a moment.”  
  
“Did he now? Well, I can’t just turn down summons from the prince,” Sylvain hums. “Thanks for letting me know.  
  
“Of course! And I’ll do my best to help Felix, I promise,” Ashe says firmly. And with that, he takes off.

-

As Ashe had said, Dimitri is waiting for him in their usual spot.

Even from a distance, it’s obvious that something has changed. He stands straight and tall, head lifted- he notices Sylvain’s approach and gives him a genuine, if somewhat tired, smile. It’s a relief just to see him so… aware. Aware of himself and his surroundings.

“Ashe said you needed me?” Sylvain says as he strolls up, raising his hand in greeting.

“I simply wished to see you, is all,” Dimitri replies. “I must admit that it feels rather odd not to spend my evenings with you after all this time. Would you walk with me, Sylvain?”

Sylvain grins. “It’d be my pleasure, your Highness.”

Dimitri nods, and off they go. There doesn’t seem to be any particular destination in mind, but that’s fine. Neither of them seem too keen on the idea of being alone at the moment. They wander about for a while until, somewhat surprisingly, Dimitri breaks the silence.

“Have you spoken with Felix?”  
  
“Yeah. He’s… Well, he’s in one piece. If he wants to talk about what happened, then he will, and if he doesn’t then he won’t.”

“Of course.”  
  
“Ashe was looking for him when he found me, actually,” Sylvain adds. “Hopefully he hasn’t gotten his head bitten off by now.”  
  
Dimitri laughs lightly, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. “Ashe is a strong young man, I am sure that he will be fine. I am grateful that he is looking out for Felix.”

“Same.”  
  
“In a similar vein, I… I have to confess that I had a reason for wanting to see you, Sylvain.” Dimitri slows to a stop, and Sylvain pauses alongside him.  
  
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Aside from the usual, anyways.”

“Nothing. Rather… I wanted to thank you. I cannot have been easy to deal with until now, and yet in all my wretchedness you sought me out anyways.” Dimitri’s gaze is unfocused as he speaks, cast out over the horizon. “I hardly think of myself as worth the effort, but I am grateful nonetheless.”

“Mitya,” Sylvain says quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me.”

Dimitri’s face when he turns is soft, it’s vulnerable.

“I don’t think you need me to tell you that you’ve made a lot of pretty awful mistakes, and that you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences. Can’t really sugarcoat that.”

“I would not wish for you to do so.”

Sylvain nods. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What I think you might _actually_ need me to tell you-” He leans in, using his free hand to brush the hair hanging in front of Dimitri’s eye behind his ear, “-is that you don’t need to do all of that alone.”

Dimitri leans into the gentle touch of Sylvain’s hand, even as his expression betrays his surprise. “You have already done so much for me, I could not possibly ask anything more of you.”

“You’re so silly sometimes,” Sylvain sighs, patting Dimitri’s cheek. He’s quite pleased to watch him blush at the gesture and allows himself a little grin in response. “You’ll work yourself to death over this if no one’s around to rein you in, and then where would we be?”

“S-still, my sins are my own burden to bear,” Dimitri insists.

Sylvain pauses for a moment, absentmindedly playing with Dimitri’s hair. “Mm… Do you think that you’d be able to fight this war on your own?”  
  
Dimitri blinks in confusion. “Are… Do you mean literally?”

“Answer the question,” Sylvain sing-songs.

“...Logistically speaking I could not, no.”  
  
“And when everything’s over, do you think you’ll be able to run an entire kingdom and enact reforms on your own?”

“Sylvain, what is the point of asking-”  
  
“Yes or no, your Highness.”  
  
Dimitri sighs. “No.”  
  
“Very good,” Sylvain says with another pat to the cheek. “So if you can’t fight the war by yourself and you can’t run a kingdom by yourself, and if you’ll need to do both of those things in order to start to make up for what you’ve done wrong…”  
  


“...You are far too clever, and I am incredibly thankful that we are on the same side.”

Sylvain grins.

-

Sylvain has kept an eye on Dimitri’s eating habits ever since that night in the cathedral. From what he can tell, Dimitri at very least hasn’t lost any weight since then (as low of a bar as that may be). And things have started to get a bit easier- while it’s difficult to convince Dimitri of his worth on his own, he’s swayed by arguments that their army needs to know that the prince is in good health. So Dimitri eats, he trains, he attempts to sleep. His efforts are making a difference; his face loses the sallow, gaunt look that it’d had. He starts to fill out his clothes and armor better, aided by what must be a familial predisposition to putting on muscle under normal circumstances. Dimitri’s table manners might leave something to be desired, but Sylvain is more than willing to put up with it in order to continue watching his health improve.

So there is really, truly no reason for his dear friend Felix to be staring at him so incredulously over such an exceedingly simple, offhanded question.

“Remind me exactly how much time you’ve spent clinging to his side since he returned.”

Sylvain stares right back, trying to determine how he’s managed to draw Felix’s ire. “What? What did I say?”

“...You never noticed.”

“Really gonna need you to use your big boy words and explain what you’re talking about, Felix.” 

“Idiot. The boar can’t taste anything,” Felix snaps. “I don’t know when it started, but he hasn’t been able to since before he disappeared.”

Well. That would explain why asking Felix what Dimitri’s favorite food is came off so poorly.

Sylvain thinks back on the past few months, trying to remember any meals they’d taken together- he can only recall writing off any of Dimitri’s disinterest in food as Dimitri just not caring about himself. But… lacking a sense of taste would certainly account for his indifference. It would also explain how he could tolerate eating those terrible, bitter weeds.

“...Alright, fair enough. But I could’ve sworn he said he liked how spicy that soup we had the other day was,” Sylvain muses. “I don’t see why he’d lie so specifically like that.”

Felix crosses his arms, frowning as he stares daggers through the ground. “Perhaps exceptionally strong, aromatic flavors can… shock his palate into working, somehow. Ugh, how obnoxious,” he mutters. “Who knows how long it’ll take to sort out.”

Sylvain pauses for a moment before a knowing smile slowly spreads across his face.  
  
“Whatever it is you’re about to say, don’t.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Sylvain says innocently. “I was just going to say it’s so sweet that you care this much about his Highness.”

Felix freezes. “Stop talking.”

“No, really! It’s so _magnanimous_ of you, not wanting him to eat tasteless meals day in and day out. Such a kind young man you are.”  
  
“Shut _up,_ you harlot-”  
  
Sylvain pats Felix on the shoulder, nodding solemnly. “Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me.”

Felix jerks back, face flushed up to the tips of his ears. “This conversation is over,” he hisses, turning to stalk off down the corridor.

Sylvain gives him the small dignity of suppressing his laughter until the sound of his stomping footsteps has faded.

He learns at dinner the next day that someone requested a particularly spicy beef dish be prepared for reasons unspecified. And if he catches Felix watching Dimitri’s excitement over being served a meal he can taste, well, he supposes he can keep that to himself.

-

He can't exactly pinpoint when it happens. Maybe looking after Dimitri so closely for so long is what forged this instinct, and now there's no getting rid of it. Perhaps he's always felt this way, and just never had any reason to acknowledge it before. Whatever the case may be, Sylvain knows deep in his heart that he's inexorably, inextricably devoted to the future king. And it's just as well that Sylvain is coming to terms with this now that Dimitri feels like a person again, because he doubts that there's anything Dimitri could ask of him that he'd say no to.

So when Dimitri nearly breaks down the door to Sylvain's room looking panicked beyond belief, more so than he thinks he's ever seen him, he feels that devotion running hot and fierce through his veins. Whatever Dimitri needs, whatever threat needs to be eliminated, Sylvain is ready to act-

And he's left dumbfounded.

"...Say that again?" he asks.

Dimitri sighs heavily, not looking nearly as contrite as he should considering his request. "I just... need to hide from a girl. For a while."

Sylvain will not laugh. Sylvain is a good, supportive friend, and Goddess help him he will not laugh. "This girl wouldn't happen to have a dagger on her now, would she?"

"That happened _once-_ "

Sylvain is definitely not laughing. "Well what did you do, then, if it's so bad that you need to hide from her?"

Dimitri groans, rubbing his face with his hands. "I truly wish that I knew."

Sylvain might be laughing. Just a little. But honestly, some things never change, and Dimitri's obliviousness to his own appeal is one of them. It's all too easy for him to imagine Dimitri trying to use a pickup line that from literally anyone else would sound cheap and forced, only for him to unwittingly charm this poor mystery girl out of her mind. "Okay, okay. So you tried asking a girl out, and she's a little too eager? Is that it?"

"That is... one way to put it, yes," Dimitri says hesitantly. "And while I find it somewhat shameful to cower and hide, I do not know how else to dissuade her."

"Oh, buddy, you've come to the right place!" Sylvain says with a grin. "You stay here and relax, and I'll go work my magic to get this girl off your case."

Dimitri looks somewhat concerned, even as some of the tension leaves his posture. "I could not possibly ask you to shoulder the burden of my own transgression..."

Sylvain waves his hand dismissively. "Please, it's nothing that I haven't dealt with before. I'll go talk to her, and you won't have to worry about this ever again."

"I... I suppose if you insist," Dimitri relents. "Thank you, my friend. I truly do not know where I would be without your support."

Sylvain claps him on the shoulder. "Anything for you, your Highness. So, where do I find the lucky-"

He's cut off by a sharp knock on his door and a voice calling out Dimitri's name.

"-girl."

Dimitri goes wide-eyed with terror. "How did she know I was here?!"

"You _are_ kinda big, you know. She could’ve just… seen you."

Dimitri looks about ready to leap out of the window.

"Alright, don't worry, I can still fix this. Just... here, down you go," Sylvain says, gently shoving Dimitri behind the bed. There's not much they can do to conceal him any better, given the urgency of it all, so Sylvain just tries to push him out of view of the door. Dimitri, in all his fear and glory, allows himself to be unceremoniously manhandled into hiding.

The girl at the door knocks again. Sylvain straightens up, runs a hand through his hair, and throws on the most charming smile that he can muster before striding over and opening the door.

"There you are! I was worried I'd lost you earlier-" the girl starts, but her excitement quickly fades when she realizes that she's not talking to Dimitri.

"Lost me? I don't think we've ever met before- I know I'd remember meeting someone as lovely as you," Sylvain replies with a wink.

The girl blinks a few times. "I could've sworn I saw Dimitri run this way. Have you seen him?"

She's... certainly pretty direct, isn't she. "Can't say that I have," he says, casually leaning against the doorframe. He's pretty sure that Dimitri is out of sight, but better safe than sorry. "But I might be able to pass along a message to him, miss...?"

"That would be wonderful! My name is Eilin," she says with a quick bow. "Although I suppose it's not much of a message... You see, he was kind enough to invite me out to dinner tonight, but... Well, I'm just too excited! I wanted to see if I couldn't convince him to join me early."

What on earth did Dimitri _do_ to this girl? Sylvain clucks his tongue. "All this attention from such a pretty girl... I have to admit I'm a little jealous of him," he muses, leaning in slightly. "What do you say you give me a chance to take you out instead, show you a good time? I promise you it'll be worth your while."

Eilin shakes her head. "I must decline," she says firmly. "I couldn’t possibly break our date. I mean, he was just so sweet! Goodness, you'd think such a handsome man would be more self-assured, but he was so... humble."

"Ha, that sounds like him, but-"

"And so gentle! Oh, I should bring him something homemade, do you know what kind of foods he likes?"

Saints, no wonder Dimitri seemed so overwhelmed. She’s got her heart set on him (not that Sylvain can really blame her, either; it’s not exactly her fault that Dimitri is too serious about literally everything). Is he just going to have to outright lie about his Highness in order to douse this infatuation? He’s letting Eilin ramble as he takes a moment to ponder how best to go about this when he hears something rustle behind him.

“-and there’s this old wives tale that says if you feed them to the man you love, you’re sure to be- oh, Dimitri!” Eilin says excitedly.

 _What the fuck._ Sylvain turns to see Dimitri, who is now standing like an _idiot_ instead of hiding behind the bed like he’s supposed to be doing. The expression on his face is almost comically contrite as he crosses the room. “Buddy, what are you-”  
  
Dimitri shakes his head. “At ease, my friend.” He turns to Eilin with a slight bow. “I am afraid that I owe you an apology. I must look ridiculous right now.”  
  
Eilin looks wholly starstruck. “Not at all,” she sighs happily, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Y-yes, well… As I was saying. While I understand why our earlier conversation may have left you with the impression that it did, regrettably, I will be unable to join you this evening,” Dimitri says.  
  
“Oh, I don’t mind rescheduling-”  
  
“You misunderstand, although that is no one’s fault but my own,” he says firmly. “In my haste I greatly underestimated the amount of time which my current responsibilities will occupy, well into the foreseeable future. I could not possibly ask you to wait for a day which may never come, not when a person as… enthusiastic as you deserves someone who can make you a priority.”  
  
Sylvain is in absolute awe of what he’s hearing. This is the same man that just a few minutes ago was willing to hide under a bed to avoid having to speak with a girl who wanted a date with him. Why did Dimitri even bother coming to him in the first place?

Dimitri’s words seem to start to sink in, and Eilin visibly deflates. “Ah… I see,” she sighs, averting her gaze. “Then I should apologize as well, for getting so carried away.”  
  
“You need not blame yourself. Had I not been so cowardly, we would have avoided this situation entirely.”  
  
Sylvain gives Dimitri a sympathetic pat on the back as Eilin offers him a sad little smile. “We’ve both learned something here today, I think. I’ll leave you be, then-”

The way she pauses makes Dimitri flinch ever so briefly, and Sylvain braces himself for whatever is about to come next. She’s looking between the both of them now, back and forth, gaze full of scrutiny, as if she’s seeing their faces for the first time.

“...Is something else the matter?” Dimitri asks hesitantly.  
  
“That’s it!” she exclaims, her face lighting back up. “You two are those generals that are dating!”  
  
What.

Eilin, oblivious to Dimitri and Sylvain’s shared bewilderment, carries on. “I didn’t realize until I saw you two standing next to each other, but I should’ve known! Everyone I know that works in the kitchens is always talking about how you’re always together, and how fondly you speak of each other,” she coos, before her expression turns serious. “Oh, but it would probably be a big scandal if word really got out, maybe lead to blackmail by the Empire… No wonder you’d try to dispel the rumors by courting someone else!”  
  
Dimitri looks helplessly at Sylvain, who can do nothing except shrug.

“You should’ve just said so from the start,” Eilin continues. “I would be happy to help! You know, I’ve always been a romantic at heart, ever since my big sister gave up her life as a mercenary after she fell for a woman that she’d been hired to hold for ransom…” She sighs dreamily. “The road to true love is never easy, but they’ve been married for six years now and they’re happy as can be.”  
  
Sylvain blinks. “Huh. Hadn’t thought that one was true.”

“Well, I should be going. I’m sure you two want to make the most of what little free time you have,” she says with a wink. “Have a wonderful day!”  
  
And with that, she’s gone.  
  
“...Well, your Highness, I’m marking that one down as a win.”

-

Sylvain has enough on his plate for the rest of the day that he doesn’t have much time to consider how he feels that, apparently, there are rumors circling that he and Dimitri are an item. It probably isn’t helping those rumors that he finds Dimitri at his door with a picnic basket that evening.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to butter me up so you can hide from another girl.”

Dimitri shudders. “Thankfully, no. But I thought it would remiss of me not to make it up to you after putting you through such trouble earlier,” he explains. “And, well… It might not hurt to keep up appearances, as it were.”

Sylvain laughs lightly. “I dunno, man, her assuming that you’re dating someone with a reputation like mine is probably penance enough.”

The remark is really just meant as a joke, but Dimitri’s face turns incredibly serious anyways. “While she may have been incorrect as to the nature of our relationship, I was in no way offended. And I am not ashamed to be associated with you, Sylvain.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” Sylvain says, masking his mild surprise at Dimitri’s response with a teasing smile. “I guess it’s a date, then.”  
  
Dimitri’s expression goes soft with fond exasperation, and off they go.

They end up finding a relatively secluded spot on the monastery grounds to have their meal. Dimitri really did come prepared; he’s got a simple but appealing little spread of breads, sweet rolls, fruits, and jerky, as well as a cloth for them to sit on. It’s… pretty cute, honestly. “Damn,” Sylvain whistles as they settle down. “Did someone in the kitchens owe you a favor or something?”

Dimitri smiles somewhat sheepishly. “I may have implied that I needed food for a… private engagement. If the staff read into my request, it was not my place to correct them.”

“Your _Highness,_ ” Sylvain gasps, pressing a scandalized hand to his heart in mock offense. “What will people think?”  
  
“That you are a poor influence on me, I am sure.”

Sylvain snickers and lightly shoves Dimitri’s shoulder. They start to eat in companionable silence, enjoying their food and one another’s company. The setting sun casts long shadows across the grounds, and if Sylvain were a bit more romantic, he’d say that Dimitri is glowing in the low light. He’s definitely not a romantic, though, so he keeps the thought to himself.

“...Hey, Dimitri?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“I heard a pretty weird story the other day that I’ve been meaning to tell you about,” Sylvain says conversationally. “There was an incident at a bar not too far from here.”  
  
Dimitri frowns. “What sort of incident? Is there reason to believe the Empire was involved?”  
  
“No, no, nothing that serious,” he reassures him. “It’s just that… Well, maybe the guy who told me was just too drunk to remember properly, but he swore up and down that a ham sandwich walked in.”  
  
“...A sandwich.”  
  
He nods, being careful to keep his tone even. “Yup. Said that it went up to the bartender and tried to order a beer, but… the bartender told it that they didn’t serve food there.”

Dimitri’s confusion yields to dawning realization, and a delightfully silly smile spreads across his face. “I-is that so,” he manages.

Sylvain grins right back. “Yup.”  
  
Whatever Dimitri intended to say next is lost as he unravels into bright, teary-eyed laughter that goes on for at least a solid minute.It does something funny to Sylvain’s chest as he watches; maybe it’s just the contrast between what Dimitri was like not long ago, and how carefree he looks as he loses it over the dumbest joke Sylvain thinks he’s ever told.

All in all he is _very_ pleased with himself, and Dimitri’s laughter is infectious enough that he ends up giving in himself.

“S-Sylvain,” Dimitri gasps as he tries to compose himself, leaning heavily against Sylvain as he does. “That was truly awful.”

“Hey, you laughed,” Sylvain replies, slinging an arm around Dimitri’s shoulders.

Dimitri shakes with another, quieter round of giggles. “I thought… I genuinely believed that you had a serious intelligence report to share. You must warn me the next time you tell a joke like that, I beg of you.”

 _He really is pretty when he smiles._ “No promises, buddy.”

-

“Sylvain.”  
  
Byleth’s voice cuts sharp and clear over the din of everyone bustling about, and Sylvain looks up to greet them with an easy grin. “Morning.”  
  
They grab at his arm, pulling him away from the others without a word of explanation, because apparently people just assume that they can drag him along wherever they want at a moment’s notice.

“Gosh, Professor,” he remarks once they’ve made it far enough to not be overheard. “Are you finally ready to ask me to run away with you, after all this time?”  
  
Byleth looks back at him blankly.

“You know I wouldn’t joke around if you’d just told me who the flowers were for.”  
  
They put their hands on Sylvain’s shoulders, gaze unwavering. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Dimitri.”  
  
Sylvain nods, not entirely sure where this conversation might be going. “Have been for a while now, yeah.”

Byleth studies him for a moment longer before their normally deadpan expression warms into a smile. “You make him happy.”

Well, he certainly hopes he does. But what is the point of-

“He makes you happy too,” they state before he can respond, and that sentiment really should’ve been phrased as a question if this was supposed to be a normal conversation. It’s not like they’re wrong, though, so Sylvain just rolls with it.

“Hey, we’ve been friends since we were kids. We’re kinda stuck together at this point,” he replies.

Byleth pats his cheek. “You’re stupid sometimes,” they reply. “But that’s okay. You two are a good match.” And before he can question them further, they release his shoulders and stride off.

-

_You two are a good match._

Byleth’s words echo for the rest of the morning, and then for the rest of the day, and for the rest of the day that follows. It burrows into his mind, it ticks in the background of his thoughts like a clock.

A match?

Why does it matter to him that someone offhandedly referred to him and Dimitri as a pair? Rumors are one thing, but from someone who actually knows them?

It’s not as if he minds being associated with him. Dimitri is flawed and scarred, and there might always be people out there who think of him as a beast, but Byleth certainly isn’t one of them.

He tosses those six words in his head over and over, trying to make sense of why this is such a _thing_ for him. Dimitri is doing better. He wants to atone for his mistakes. He’s learning how to take care of himself. He’s rebuilding his relationships with Dedue, with Felix, with Ingrid- with Sylvain. That’s what he’d wanted, right? That’s what they’d all wanted.

_You two are a good match._

Of course he’d be happy to see Dimitri as he is now, what with how far gone he used to be. And it’s only natural that he’d end up getting closer to him after they’ve spent so much time together. They were friends as children, and they’re friends now.

_You two are a good match._

Sylvain could deal with just finding Dimitri to be handsome (which he does). He knows how to grapple with physical urges. He knows when to cut his losses in a relationship before things get too serious. 

The problem with Dimitri, with whatever it is that’s between them, is that there’s just no way to escape him. And even if he could, he doesn’t know if he would _want_ to. It’s been so nice seeing familiar aspects of Dimitri’s personality reemerge after so long: his diligence, his empathy, his ridiculous sense of humor, the way he likes to tease people he’s comfortable around, the richness of his laughter, the warmth of his smiles, his boundless devotion, the way Dimitri makes him feel when the full force of that devotion is focused on Sylvain as if he’s the only thing in the world that matters-

Oh.

_You two are a good match._

Oh no.

-

_Oh no._

-

Once he realizes, there’s no going back. How long has he felt like this? How long has he been in love with Dimitri and not noticed? He didn’t even think he was capable of falling in love, capable of anything beyond a passing fancy or physical infatuation. Has he been obvious about it? Does Dimitri know? He’s drowning in questions, what ifs and how comes and why, why, why- and there’s absolutely no one he can talk to about it. It’s hard enough just admitting it to himself. The dilemma of what to do about it has him up at unholy hours at night, laid flat on his back in bed as he stares into the darkness.

Come hell or high water, there is no possible way he’s ever telling Dimitri. He can’t add to the endless pile of worries and concerns that his Highness already has to deal with, and if Sylvain somehow managed to make Dimitri feel _obligated_ to return his feelings when he actually doesn’t…

The thought makes him feel ill.

Confessing is completely out of the question, then. And he’s not going to risk Dimitri finding out by telling someone else. That leaves just… getting over him. If Sylvain wants to have any part in Dimitri’s life, no matter how small, he’s going to have to force himself to outlast this ill-fated affection until it ends. Or until Dimitri chooses a queen, and even the remotest chance of anything happening between them is really and truly gone.

If only Dimitri was just another suitor, someone who he could realistically convince himself was only after his crest or his title. But he’s a prince, and he’s almost king; he’s going to hold sway over House Gautier no matter how Sylvain feels about him.

Sylvain rolls onto his side and curls in on himself.

He awakens the next day feeling more exhausted than when he went to sleep. His mind is made up; as much as he doesn’t want to, as much as it’s a familiar, comforting routine that he’s desperately going to miss, he has to stop spending so much time with Dimitri. Unless it’s absolutely otherwise unavoidable, he has to start putting distance between the two of them. Goddess forbid that Dimitri has developed some shortsighted crush on Sylvain in turn just because he’s used to him being around.

So he starts avoiding Dimitri. For one day, and then another, and then a third, and it sucks. He misses him. After making such a habit out of lining up their routines whenever possible, everything feels… empty. It’s all he can do to just make sure their paths don’t cross and, in the moments when they do, to avoid the hurt and confusion on Dimitri’s face when Sylvain acknowledges him with little more than a nod.

An unanticipated consequence of it all is the concern (and, in Felix’s case, poorly hidden ire) that he starts to draw from the others. Since he can’t tell them what’s going on, he’s forced to withdraw from them as well.

It fucking sucks.

He manages for a few more days of increasing misery before finally slipping up. All he’d wanted was some fresh air after a long day; he had been banking on everyone being in the dining hall when he’d slipped out for an evening stroll. But his luck runs out when he’s crossing the bridge to the cathedral, and he hears Dimitri call out his name from behind.

Sylvain plasters on a smile and turns to face him. Maybe if he’s lucky, Dimitri’s just going to blow up at him. He can deal with getting yelled at. “What’s up, your Highness?”  
  
Unfortunately for Sylvain, Dimitri looks more concerned than anything else. His brow creases as he speaks. “You have been making yourself very scarce as of late, my friend.”  
  
“Have I? Hadn’t noticed, sorry,” he says nonchalantly. “Did you need me for something?”

“I am not here to ask that you do anything for me,” Dimitri replies. “In truth, I had initially worried that I’d done something to upset you… But as I have learned, I am not the only one who has seen little of you recently. Has something happened?”  
  
Sylvain lets the forced smile drop from his face. “I didn’t think I needed anyone’s permission to hang out on my own.”  
  
Dimitri’s jaw tightens, just barely noticeable in the day’s dying light. “Of course not. But I have never known you to be fond of isolation for very long.” 

Damned childhood friends and their familiarity with his habits. Just considering it is starting to make him feel sick, but if he has to push Dimitri away by force, then so be it. “Yeah? Maybe you just don’t know me that well, then.”

If Dimitri would just get angry with him, then this would be so much easier. But he doesn’t falter, and the only emotion he betrays even the slightest trace of is sadness.

Fine then. Sylvain pushes on. “Drop the act already, seriously. There’s plenty of other people you can go cry to if you’re lonely, so you can stop acting all noble and pretending like you care about me,” he snaps. “I don’t have anything to offer you anymore.”

He regrets his words as soon as they leave his lips; Dimitri’s wounded expression feels like a stake driven through his chest. He deserves it.

“Go on. Leave,” Sylvain hisses.

Dimitri doesn’t leave. He should leave, he has every right to storm off, but he doesn’t. “If I have caused you to believe that I see you as nothing more than a means to an end,” he says quietly, “then I fear that I have even more misdeeds to atone for than I previously believed.”

Sylvain doesn’t trust himself to say anything more without his voice breaking.

“If you truly wish to be rid of me, Sylvain, then tell me. Tell me that you no longer wish to see my face, and I swear to you that I will never again trouble you personally. I swear to you that I will do all that is within my power to prevent you from having to speak with me again.” Dimitri looks directly at him as he speaks. “If that is what you want, then say it.”

The weight of Dimitri’s gaze is almost unbearable, and it’s made even worse by the fact that Sylvain can tell that Dimitri means what he says. He could tell him right now that he never wants to see him again, and they’ll be separated by physical distance and countless layers of intermediaries for the rest of their lives. He just has to summon the strength to open his mouth and say the word, and it’s all over, forever.

He tries.

He can’t do it.

After a few long moments, it becomes obvious that Sylvain isn’t going to take up the offer. Slowly, very slowly, Dimitri’s hard stare begins to soften. “If that is not the case,” he says quietly. “Then perhaps you can accept that I am concerned about you simply because I care for you. Very much so, as it happens.”  
  
Sylvain still doesn’t trust his voice, so he gives a noncommittal hum.

“I am, of course, immeasurably grateful for the kindness you showed me when I was at my lowest. I will be for the rest of my life. But there is so much more about you that I value, my friend,” Dimitri continues, his tone painfully sincere. “You are so intelligent, so compassionate, so fiercely protective of those fortunate enough to be cared for by you- simply being in your company is a joy in and of itself. As much as our roles in this world will permit, I want to see you happy. And… selfish as it may be, I admit that I want to be able to make you happy myself.”

It’s probably for the best that Dimitri doesn’t know the extent of the effect that he has on Sylvain. He can just… _say_ things, and Sylvain believes him. It’s ridiculous. “...Damn it, man,” he finally manages. “You’re not making it easy for me to keep brooding over here.”  
  
“Brooding does get rather tiring after a while, in my experience.”  
  
Sylvain laughs despite himself and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah it does. Look, I… I’ve just been really tired, and... I’m sorry. I know you care about me, and it was shitty of me to say what I did. I don’t need to be taking out all my issues on you.”  
  
“While I do wish that you had spoken up sooner, I am hardly in a position to judge,” Dimitri replies. “I suppose that we will have to develop these skills together. The war is nearly won, after all, and I will be relying on you even more so during peacetime than now.”

“Whatever you need,” Sylvain says immediately, “I’ll do it. I’m with you no matter what.”  
  
Seeing Dimitri smile so warmly at him in response feels like a drought coming to an end. “I will look forward to your support, then.”  
  
Sylvain grins back. “Good. Now, uh, I should probably go apologize to Felix and Ingrid before one of them bites my head off,” he says sheepishly. He moves to give Dimitri a one-armed hug before he goes, but finds himself pulled into a full embrace instead.

“Thank you for being willing to speak with me, my friend,” Dimitri says quietly. “Please promise me that you will reach out the next time you are in need, whether you come to me or not.”  
  
Touch starved and emotionally exhausted, Sylvain sinks into Dimitri almost instantly. He’s worn down enough that, for once, he’s able to ignore the voice in the back of his head that’s railing on and on about how he doesn’t deserve this kindness, hasn’t earned it, isn’t worthy-

He closes his eyes and lets himself breathe in the sanctuary of Dimitri’s arms.

“I promise.”

-

It’s over.

A cruel part of Sylvain’s mind snarks that it’s not really over; all the damage that’s been done over years of conflict is going to take far longer to resolve than it took to inflict. Already he’s starting to think about what comes next and where he’s going to be needed most.

But, a larger part of him insists, it’s still _over._ The war is over, in every practical sense of the word. No more armies locked in endless stalemate broken by a few vicious hours of slaughter. No longer will he have to reach for his lance every single day, even if he never breaks the habit of sleeping with it under his bed. If not for his own sake, he can at least find some comfort in the newly secured (if somewhat relative) safety of the people he cares about.

He doesn’t have a chance to hear the details of Dimitri and Byleth’s encounter with Edelgard until well after the battle has ended. It’s still too early for him to dwell too much on Edelgard herself, on the tragedy of it all, but he supposes that it would probably be safe to admit his conflicted feelings to Dimitri. He must understand, if after everything he still tried to spare her life. And isn’t _that_ something, in and of itself; Sylvain already believed that Dimitri was committed to moving forward, he really did, but there’s a difference between believing in something and being presented with concrete evidence that it’s true.

He’s proud of him.

Sylvain approaches Dimitri’s tent that evening without much fanfare. He doesn’t begrudge the soldiers their revelry, but it feels inappropriate to be celebrating. He wants to relax, he wants to rest, he doesn’t have the energy to do much else. If he can help Dimitri decompress in the process, even better.

The soon-to-be king is exiting his tent when Sylvain walks up, his face buried in a haphazard stack of papers. He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t register the presence of another person until he nearly trips over a stray tree root and Sylvain steadies him with a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “Easy there, big guy.”

Dimitri’s eyes, as tired as they are, light up when he sees Sylvain. “What would I do without you, my friend?”  
  
“Probably would’ve gotten a faceful of dirt just now, if I had to guess,” Sylvain replies. “Where are you headed so late, anyways?”  
  
“Ah, yes, well…” Dimitri shuffles the papers in his hands. “I was working on drafting a treaty that will need to be reviewed with the Professor, so-”  
  
“Dimitri. Buddy.”

He sighs heavily. “This is important, Sylvain.”  
  
“So is making sure the almost-king gets to rest sometimes,” Sylvain says firmly. “Seriously. If there was ever any time to give yourself the night off, it’s now.”

“There will be time to rest after this treaty is written.”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Will there be? Call me crazy, but something tells me you’re gonna keep finding things to do once this is done.”

Dimitri looks hesitant, glancing between Sylvain and his paperwork, but he at least isn’t attempting to push past.

 _Almost there._ Sylvain gently tucks a lock of Dimitri’s hair behind his ear and lets his touch linger, combing his fingers through. He relishes the way that Dimitri rests against his hand; has he just conditioned him into relaxing whenever he touches his hair? Seems like it. “C’mon, Mitya,” he says softly. “Give yourself a break. Please.”

“I…” Dimitri wavers for a moment longer, giving one last look at his papers before he finally relents. “I suppose I could wait until tomorrow morning.”  
  
“Good boy,” Sylvain says with an approving nod. He continues to play with Dimitri’s hair, just because he can. “Now that that’s settled, you wanna go for a walk?”  
  
Dimitri shakes his head and reaches up to press Sylvain’s hand against his cheek. “In truth, I am… rather tired. And if I am not going to spend my night working, I find that there’s little else I’d rather do other than rest in your company.”

Sylvain cannot believe that Dimitri is capable of making him blush with his stupidly powerful sincerity. Absolutely ridiculous. “Sounds good,” he manages.

Dimitri gives him a grateful smile and, after they both toe off their boots outside, gently pulls Sylvain along into his tent. It’s a bit of a tight fit for the both of them, but it’s no more uncomfortable than any of the other accommodations they’ve been forced to endure before. Dimitri starts to make quick work of removing his armor, and so Sylvain takes his cue to do the same.

“It almost doesn’t feel real,” Sylvain remarks. “Being here after so long.”

“And yet here we are.” Dimitri pauses for a moment as he removes his gauntlets and the leather gloves underneath. “I still cannot say if I will ever truly be free from the voices of the dead. I suspect that I may never be.” His voice grows thin as he speaks. “Nor do I know if I deserve to be.”  
  
“Dimitri-”  
  
“Nevertheless,” he continues. “I will live on. The regrets of the past will not keep me from building a kingdom where people can live in peace.” And with this, he offers Sylvain a grateful little smile. “It certainly does not hurt to know that I have such strong allies by my side.”

Sylvain realizes, sitting there in Dimitri’s tent, that he’s really and truly gone on him. There’s no use trying to fight it. Whether or not he’ll ever tell him outright is yet to be seen, but in that moment he makes peace with the fact that Dimitri has his loyalty and his heart for the rest of their lives.

He almost says so out loud. Almost.

Instead, he opens his arms and says, “C’mere, big guy,” and he relishes the way that Dimitri leans into him as they embrace (as best as two grown men in an army-issue tent can, anyways).

“How strange it is to feel such hope for the future,” Dimitri murmurs.

“Seriously. But if we can get through all of the shit we have until now, then we can get through anything.”

Dimitri hesitates for a beat. “...Yes.”

“Something else bothering you?” Sylvain asks.

“No- well, yes, but it is rather foolish to be concerned with compared to the road ahead.” Dimitri rests his head against Sylvain’s shoulder.

Sylvain hums as he rubs circles into Dimitri’s back. “I bet you it’s not.”  
  
“Such faith you have in me,” Dimitri sighs. “It is only that… I have never removed my eyepatch in front of anyone before, and I need to do so to sleep. Foolish, as I said.”

Oh. Oh, shit. “Oh. Uh… Did you want me to step out, or-”

“No,” Dimitri says immediately, hugging him closer. “No, I do not want you to leave.”  
  
“Alright, alright,” Sylvain laughs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dimitri sighs and reluctantly disentangles himself from Sylvain, sitting back on his heels. “I cannot allow my cowardice to get the better of me.” He draws in a quiet breath, then reaches up and slides the eyepatch off.

As nervous as Dimitri had seemed, his eye is… Well, Sylvain has seen worse. Hell, he’s probably inflicted worse without realizing it in the heat of battle. Dimitri’s pupil and iris are cloudy and unfocused, and the sclera is grey and dull. The skin around it is slashed through with scar tissue, streaking up from the top of his cheekbone and up through his eyebrow.

Dimitri lets his hair fall into his face. “Repulsive, is it not?”

Gently, very gently, giving him time to move away if he wants, Sylvain takes Dimitri’s face in his hands. He rests their foreheads together, he strokes his thumb over the scarring on his cheekbone. “Nah,” he says softly. “It’s you, so it couldn’t be.”

Dimitri breathes a quiet laugh. “Ever the charmer, aren’t you.”  
  
“I mean it.” Sylvain closes his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, Mitya.”  
  
Dimitri makes an aborted movement to- to do something. If Sylvain didn’t know any better, he’d say it was Dimitri trying to kiss him. Whatever it was supposed to be, he ends up pulling them both down onto the bedroll instead. “Allow me to monopolize your time for the night, my friend,” he murmurs. “Your presence is soothing.”  
  
With Dimitri’s warm, solid weight next to him, so close that he can hear the steady beat of his heart, Sylvain is powerless to do anything but yield.

-

Sylvain is cold. Ice is running through his veins, seeping into the marrow of his bones, freezing him from the inside out. His heartbeat echoes in his ears, each pulse deafening him to the hideous cacophony of the vicious battle around him that he’s desperately carving his way through. He recognizes every face he sees before he strikes them down, he watches as their bodies seemingly burst open like overripe fruit. He’s soaked in blood and bile as he charges forwards, boots slipping on rocky terrain made treacherous by the viscera left in his wake.

He can’t falter. He can’t stop. He promised them, he promised he’d protect them, he promised them and he loves them and he can _hear them screaming as they’re torn apart ripped limb from limb because he wasn’t there to keep them safe no no no why them why not him instead no NO-_

Sylvain bolts upright with a gasp. His chest is heaving and his heart is thudding painfully, though it isn’t pounding in his ears anymore. Eyes wide, clutching at his chest, he takes in his surroundings.

The war is over. He’s in bed. He fell asleep in Dimitri’s tent.

Exhaling, he sinks forward onto his elbows and curses under his breath. He shouldn’t have stayed. Dimitri has enough to worry about without Sylvain waking him in the middle of the night- maybe if he’s lucky, he can steal away without incident.

Dimitri stirs next to him as he’s starting to slide off of the bedroll, and the plan goes out the window. Sylvain stays silent, hoping that he might just go back to sleep, but he has no such luck.

“Sylvain,” comes Dimitri’s voice, low and rough. “Is… Is something the matter?”

“Just a dream,” Sylvain whispers. “It’s fine.”

Dimitri does the opposite of what Sylvain currently wants him to do and sits up. “And yet I imagine it has troubled you nonetheless.”  
  
“It’s fine,” he repeats, speaking more to himself than anything else. He’s staring straight ahead and refusing to meet the concerned gaze that’s almost certainly focused on him right now. If Dimitri can just let it go and lie back down, then Sylvain can… What could he actually do, now that he’s thinking about it? He won’t be able to leave without Dimitri noticing now. And as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he isn’t particularly keen on the idea of being alone at the moment.

Dimitri’s fingertips brush the back of Sylvain’s head, lightly skimming over his hair. “May I?” he asks.

Sylvain nods mutely. He feels Dimitri start to stroke, fingers carding through his hair with an almost reverent sort of tenderness, as if he doesn’t believe that Sylvain would so readily agree to be touched by him. It’s almost heady, being touched so gently while knowing full well just how unimaginably strong Dimitri is. That aside, the physical reminder of his presence is keeping Sylvain anchored in his own body. 

“If you would like to discuss whatever it was that woke you, I will gladly listen,” Dimitri says. “But I will respect your wishes if you would prefer not to do so.”

Sylvain exhales a slow, shaking breath. _It’s okay. This is okay. He can rely on other people sometimes. He can rely on Dimitri._ “I… I’ve had it before. The dream.”

“Is it the same each time?”  
  
“More or less. It’ll always start the same, at least,” Sylvain mumbles. “I never know where I am but it’s always freezing cold, and I can hear-” He stops abruptly, feeling tears spike hot and sharp in his eyes. Fuck, why did he have to say anything? He doesn’t want to cry, not in front of Dimitri, he doesn’t want to make him worry.

Judging by how Dimitri’s hand trails from his hair to come cup his cheek, turning his head to face him, he’s probably already worried him enough. His voice is just barely tinged with something desperate when he speaks. “You need not suffer in silence. After all that you have done for me, please, allow me to take care of you.”

Sylvain can feel the dam inside his chest breaking under the weight of Dimitri’s words. He cracks a weak smile. “It’s cool, really. Sometimes I have dreams about hearing everyone I love get slaughtered because I was too slow to do the one thing I’m good at and keep them safe, but then I wake up and I get over it. It could be worse.”

“Oh, Sylvain…” And Dimitri sounds _disappointed,_ he sounds _sad,_ he sounds like he should be shoving Sylvain out of his bed as he should’ve done hours ago but that’s- that’s not what he’s doing. He’s pulling Sylvain into his lap and he’s hugging him close with an arm around his waist.

Sylvain is warm. He’s holding Dimitri and his hands are trembling as he blinks back tears and he’s so warm. “S-sorry,” he manages. “Didn’t want you to have to deal with me like this.”

Dimitri shakes his head, his free hand tracing circles against Sylvain’s back. “I could think of no greater honor than staying by your side, whether in this moment or any other. There is no part of you that is undeserving of kindness.”

If Sylvain can just keep himself from burying his face in the crook of Dimitri’s neck as he’s so horribly tempted to, then Dimitri won’t notice the tears that definitely haven’t started spilling down his cheeks.

Fate, it seems, is hell bent on ruining him tonight. Dimitri moves back so he can press a kiss to his forehead, and he gently dries Sylvain’s face with the corner of one of their blankets. “You are a good man,” he says intently. “Devilishly charming, with a heart of gold and a smile that outshines the sun with its brilliance and warmth.”

Sylvain’s rapid progression from just tears rolling down his face to real, honest to goodness sobs is interrupted by a very wet laugh.

“And how fortunate I am, to know the joy of being so close to you... I love you dearly,” Dimitri continues, his voice thick with emotion as he rests his forehead against Sylvain’s. “Imperfect as my heart may be, I offer it to you nonetheless.”  
  
Even as a child, Sylvain had never liked crying in front of other people. He hated how puffy it made his eyes, how blotchy his face got, red enough to rival his hair. Crying meant weakness that he couldn’t afford to show. He supposes that he should count his blessings that the tent is dark as he bawls now, sinking further against Dimitri and clinging to him like a lifeline. Any attempt he makes at speech is swallowed up in a fresh round of tears.

He loses track of how long he ends up crying for. Dimitri holds him close through it all, gently resettling him in his lap so that he can sit up straight with Sylvain’s face buried in his chest. After a while he can’t even pinpoint _why_ he’s still crying; some of it is residual stress from the nightmare, to be sure. And yet more of it is just how overwhelmed he is by the realization that not only is he in love with Dimitri, but that he doesn’t want to run away from it. He still doubts that he deserves it, doubts that he deserves Dimitri’s affection and sincerity, but by all the saints he wants it so, so badly and he’s so tired of running.

“I love- I love you,” Sylvain chokes out. “Fuck, I love you. I love you so much.” He forces himself to lift his head, gripping Dimitri’s shoulders to steady himself. “You… You believe me, right?”

“Of course I do,” Dimitri tells him, so immediate and earnest and Sylvain nearly starts sobbing again.

He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palm as he tries to pull himself together. “Okay. Cool. Because I love you a lot.”

The kiss Dimitri gives him in response is almost painfully tender. He only pulls away to kiss the inside of Sylvain’s wrist, cradling his hand like something precious, and it makes Sylvain wonder if it’s possible for someone’s heart to give out from sheer emotional overload.

He smiles despite his still watery eyes. “Where’d you learn to be so romantic, huh?”

“I had a very experienced teacher,” Dimitri replies, lacing their fingers together. “And I have found myself to be a quick study when I value the subject at hand.”

“Nerd.”

“You have no one to blame for this but yourself. I do hope that you are prepared to take responsibility.”  
  
“Oh, may the Goddess have mercy.” Sylvain lets himself flop forward with a melodramatic sigh, head resting on Dimitri’s shoulder.

Dimitri’s quiet laugh rumbles in his chest, and it tapers off into gentle sighs as Sylvain trails kisses up the column of his throat.

“Fuck, man,” Sylvain breathes. “I love you so much.”  
  
“And I you, my darling.”

Sylvain smiles against Dimitri’s neck. “Pet names are nice.”  
  
Dimitri hums contentedly, gently carding his fingers through Sylvain’s hair. “I am glad that you find them agreeable. Would you be at all displeased if I were to… Use such terms of endearment in the presence of others?”  
  
Sylvain hadn’t spared a thought as to how they’d carry on in public. He can’t help worrying about his own reputation affecting Dimitri’s ability to govern effectively, but then again, they’re not teenage students anymore. Sylvain has at least proven his loyalty and devotion on the battlefield, if nothing else. If people take issue with the company that the King decides to keep, that’s their problem. “Mm… Not at all,” he murmurs. “Call me whatever you like.”

“Then I shall call you mine.”

“...Holy shit, Mitya.”  
  
Dimitri tenses slightly. “Ah… Is that too forward? I apologize.”  
  
“We are _way_ past you wringing your hands over being too forward, my guy. And don’t apologize,” Sylvain says firmly. “I, uh… I like it.”

“Truly?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Dimitri breathes a soft sigh of relief. “That is good. I like it as well.”

Sylvain makes a pleased little sound, lazily mouthing at Dimitri’s neck. “I like _you_.” And he’d be perfectly happy to continue lavishing affection on him, but exhaustion is starting to creep back up now that the torrent of emotions in his chest has settled down. He stifles a yawn as he slowly disentangles himself from Dimitri’s lap, rolling onto his side and tugging Dimitri down next to him.

Dimitri pulls Sylvain back to his chest once they’re both laying down, an arm over his waist as Sylvain tucks himself under his chin. “Pleasant dreams, my beloved,” he murmurs. “And if they are not, I will be here when you wake.”  
  
“Same goes for you,” Sylvain replies, eyes drifting closed. “Love you.”

Dimitri’s response sounds far away as sleep claims him, but he hears it nevertheless. “I love you too.”  
  
Sylvain dreams of springtime.

* * *

_epilogue_

Dimitri’s coronation is not an extravagant affair.

The wedding of Byleth and Manuela most certainly is.

There was a time that Sylvain would’ve taken it all in - the ostentatious decorations, the finery adorning the guests, the towering wedding cake he’d glimpsed while preparations had still been underway - and plastered on a happy face while his heart twisted into something ugly. But now, as he watches Manuela tearfully choke through her vows while Byleth gazes at her with such open warmth and adoration, a pleasant little thrill burns in his chest with the realization that he isn’t bitter. He’s smiling as they exchange rings, as they’re pronounced wed, as Byleth sweeps Manuela into a brief yet passionate kiss and the crowd erupts into cheers. Maybe years of loss and strife were what it took to shake him of his cynicism and make him appreciate the candor of other people’s emotions.

His change of heart might also have something to do with the iron grip that Dimitri has on his hand during the ceremony, the crowned king of Fódlan so unabashedly delighted that he’d clung to Sylvain in a desperate bid to maintain his composure. It works, for the most part, although he catches Dimitri very quickly brushing away a few stray tears as everyone makes their way to the ballroom for the rest of the night’s festivities.

Dimitri is pulled away fairly quickly - such is the lot of the savior King - and Sylvain is left to his own devices. He’s sure that he’ll be able to steal Dimitri back at some point during the night, but this does mean he’ll have to find some way to entertain himself until the opportunity arises. As it happens, he spots Felix lingering like an ornery shadow a few yards away from the entrance to the ballroom.

Felix looks good; it’s nothing particularly flashy, standing in stark contrast with some of the other guests in attendance, but his clothes are well tailored and his hair is styled in an intricate braid. There’s something woven into it that glints in the light when he turns his head.

“You’re behaving, right? Not causing the happy couple any trouble?” Sylvain asks, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Felix levels a glare at him, but there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m not a child, you know. I should be asking the same thing of you.”

“Right, of course,” Sylvain says, waving his hand. “And you’re hiding out here because…?”

Felix’s expression wavers for a moment. He opens his mouth, closes it, and instead digs in his pocket for a little sack tied with a ribbon that he then shoves at Sylvain.

Sylvain tilts his head as he accepts the gift. “For me?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay, but what for?”

Felix crosses his arms and huffs. “You haven’t broken our promise.”

“Aw, Felix… You didn’t need to get me anything for that.”

“I wanted to.” Felix frowns a bit, glancing aside. “I’m… I’m glad you didn’t die. I’m glad that you and Dimitri are… Whatever you are to each other. I’m glad that your smiles are genuine now.” He pauses, as if it’s physically wounding him to speak. “You’re my best friend and I love you and you’d better not die of anything but old age or else I swear I’ll kill you myself,” he finishes quickly.

Sylvain can’t help himself- he drags Felix into a tight hug, ignoring the way he splutters and tries to wriggle away. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me!”

“Let go-”

“I’m gonna be thinking all night about how I’m your _best friend_ and you _love_ me-”

“Annette is about to be my only friend if you don’t get off of me!”

Sylvain laughs, pressing a kiss to the side of Felix’s head before he releases him. “Love you too, buddy.”

Felix curses under his breath as he straightens out his clothes and tucks a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “You’re the worst.”

Sylvain hums as he undoes the ribbon on Felix’s present, popping one of the candies into his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Was this actually why you’re avoiding the festivities, though, or are you just using me as an excuse?”

Felix grimaces as he looks past Sylvain at the entrance to the ballroom. “I don’t see the point of all this. If it wasn’t for the Professor, I wouldn’t have shown up in the first place.”

“Very noble of you to make the effort, then,” Sylvain says with a nod. He leans against the wall as he bites down on another candy, and Felix joins him a moment later. They sit in companionable silence for a while, Sylvain continuing to eat the candies as sounds of music and revelry drift out of the ballroom.

Felix ends up breaking the silence first. “Are you going back to Gautier territory after this?”

“Probably. Gotta start cleaning up dad’s messes.”

“Mm.”

Sylvain ties the remaining candies back up and slips them into a pocket. “What about you?”

“Reconstruction in Fraldarius comes first. After that…” Felix huffs. “Someone has to come keep an eye on Dimitri.”

Sylvain is about ready to tease him at that, but he stops when he hears a familiar voice calling out to them.

Ashe bounds up with a grin; he’s cleaned up nicely as well but, from the ever so slightly disheveled state of his hair and the flush on his face, Sylvain wonders if he’s already had a drink or two. “Oh, am I interrupting?” he asks. “I’m sorry-”

“You’re not,” Felix says firmly. Ashe offers him a grateful little smile in response.

“We were just talking about our plans for here on out,” Sylvain adds. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Ashe nods, his expression very quickly brightening. “I do, actually! His Majesty let me know that he’d be happy to accept me as a knight, and I’m honored, but first I…” And Sylvain doesn’t miss the quick glance he throws at Felix as he trails off, nor the way that Felix’s expression softens in response.

“First?” Sylvain presses. “Must be pretty important if you’re putting off knighthood for it.”

“I’d say so, yes,” Ashe replies with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going to be in Fraldarius for a while. Help with the restoration efforts, you know.”

Sylvain notices that Ashe has gotten just the slightest bit taller than Felix as he looks back and forth between the two of them, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Really? I had no idea.”

Ashe rocks back on his heels, looking both embarrassed and very distinctly pleased. “I’m looking forward to it. It’s nice to be able to help out however I can.”

“Of course,” Sylvain says, nodding sagely. “And when you guys need help planning your wedding, let me know.”

Ashe’s eyes widen as he gapes at Sylvain, face going red. “Th-that’s not why I’m- I mean-”

“What part of ‘helping with restoration’ sounded like courtship to you?” Felix growls, though any intimidating effect he’s attempting to conjure is somewhat muted by the equally flustered look on his face. And Sylvain could just let it go- he probably should let it go, but the temptation is just too strong.

“What better way to endear your intended to the masses than having him help rebuild, so that everyone can see how capable he is?” Sylvain replies easily. “It’s pretty clever, honestly.”

Ashe shakes his head, frantically waving his hands in front of him. “I’m not trying to win anyone’s favor,” he insists. “I really do just want to help.”

Sylvain cocks an eyebrow at him. “Yeah? If you’re not trying to settle down in Fraldarius, then maybe I can convince you to come to Gautier instead,” he says, slinging an arm around Ashe’s shoulders. “Having someone as cute as you around would definitely keep my spirits up.”

The look from Felix that Sylvain’s last comment earns him is practically murderous.

“I’m… flattered, I think,” Ashe says carefully. “But I can’t just go back on my word after I promised Felix.”

“Ever the honorable knight, aren’t you,” Sylvain sighs heavily. He takes far longer than could possibly be necessary to slide his arm off of Ashe’s shoulders, letting his fingertips drag against his side as it goes. “If you’re sure there’s nothing I can do to change your mind…”

All the attention is very clearly getting to him, if the prominent blush sitting high on Ashe’s cheekbones is anything to go by. He makes a mental note to apologize once Felix finds it in himself to make a proper move on the boy.

“Come on,” Felix says harshly, grabbing Ashe by the arm and pulling him along towards the entrance to the ballroom. “I don’t want to look at his face anymore.”

“Ah, okay? I guess we’ll see you around, Sylvain!” Ashe calls out, waving with his free arm as he allows himself to be dragged away.

Sylvain snickers once they’re out of sight. They’ll get there eventually.

-

Entering the ballroom feels _wonderful._ It’s oddly soothing to be surrounded by the white noise of mindless chatter, to let himself get lost in the crowd of merrymakers and be swept up in the celebration. It’s better still when he spots Annette, who’s conversing with someone he doesn’t recognize, and makes his way over to her as her companion takes their leave. With a light tap on her shoulder to catch her attention, Sylvain bows with a flourish and relishes the giggling fit that his gesture sends Annette into. “Would you be so kind as to do me the honor of a dance?” 

“Only if I get to lead!” she insists, taking Sylvain’s outstretched hand and placing it on her shoulder. “I’ve been practicing!”

Well, that certainly piques his interest. Sylvain’s dancing experience, while not insignificant, is almost entirely in leading, but Annette sounds determined enough that he’s willing to indulge her request. “Whatever you say,” he replies, stepping closer so that she can set her hand at his waist. “Sweep me off into the night, you dashing stallion.”

Annette’s laughter is practically sparkling in the air around them as she does just that, drawing them onto the dancefloor with more confidence and grace than Sylvain had been expecting. What their gallivanting jaunt across the ballroom lacks in finesse, they more than make up for in enthusiasm; Annette even manages to dip him without incident, earning them cheers of surprise and delight from onlookers.

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you’d been practicing,” Sylvain says once he’s upright, just the slightest bit breathless.

Annette grins at him, face flushed with exertion but so clearly pleased with herself that Sylvain can’t help smiling in return. “Of course I wasn’t kidding! Actually, I… Do you think I’m good enough for Ingrid to agree to dance with me?” she asks, voice hushed. Another song starts up, much more relaxed and leisurely, and Annette carefully winds them closer to the edges of the dancefloor.

Sylvain cocks his head to the side. “Ingrid? I mean, I don’t see why not. I doubt she’d say no if you asked her.”

“Oh, I hope you’re right. Please don’t tell her, but I’ve been trying to confess to her for ages now,” Annette sighs.

“Oof. Sorry to say, but you’ve really got your work cut out for you. Capable as she is, Ingrid can be really dumb sometimes. What have you tried so far?”

“Everything!” Annette cries. “I’ve told her how strong she is, how much I admire her resolve, I told her how beautiful she is and how much I like her while I was inches away from her face doing her makeup- Do you know how difficult it was trying not to kiss her?”

Sylvain winces. “That bad, huh?”

“The _worst_.”

“Mm… Well, she’s definitely pretty dense when it comes to stuff like this, but I’ll bet you that she’s mostly just worried about not letting herself fall for anyone when she's always been under so much pressure to marry well. Not that you aren’t a catch,” he adds quickly.

Annette smiles sadly, leaning in and resting her forehead against Sylvain’s chest. “Thank you. I really do just want her to be happy, even if she doesn’t return my feelings… I’d be fine just getting to be her friend.”

Sylvain gently squeezes her hand. “Hey, don’t give up just yet. She doesn’t even know how you feel.”

“...You’re right. I shouldn’t mope about like this.” Annette straightens up, regaining some of her earlier confidence. “I spent so much time tripping over my own feet just so I could learn how to dance with her, it’d be a shame if all of that went to waste!”

“Attagirl. Now c’mon, I think I see her over there,” Sylvain says, nodding to their left.

“Oh… Yes, there she is! Oh, Sylvain, she’s so lovely,” Annette sighs.

Saints above, she’s got it bad. Sylvain can only hope that eventually Ingrid realizes just how lucky she is to have such a cute girl pining after her so fiercely. “And are you just gonna let her stand there all night?”

Annette shakes her head, pulling Sylvain along as they weave around other couples and make their way towards Ingrid. Ingrid, for her part, doesn’t seem to take notice of them until they’re a few paces away; she looks rather amused when they stop in front of her and Annette releases Sylvain, parting from him with a graceful curtsy. “Thank you ever so much for your time, my lord.”

“The pleasure was all mine, I assure you,” Sylvain responds, matching her with a bow of his own.

Annette giggles and turns to face Ingrid. “I’m glad we found you, I haven’t seen you all day! You look gorgeous.”

Sylvain wonders if Ingrid is aware of just how much she relaxes around Annette; tension leaves her shoulders, her expression softens, her eyes light up ever so slightly. She probably has no idea, which makes it all the more amusing to watch. He turns and strikes up a light conversation with a gentleman he vaguely recognizes, remembering enough to think to ask after the man’s children. He’s a new father and obviously quite proud of it, and Sylvain is happy to let him ramble while he listens in on his friends.

“-to dance?” He catches Ingrid saying.

“Yes! If I can dip someone as big as Sylvain, I know I can make sure you’ll have plenty of fun!”

“That’s very sweet of you, but I doubt you’d enjoy yourself with me.”

“I enjoy doing everything with you,” Annette says earnestly. “And that aside, I… I know that Galatea’s lands don’t have much agricultural capacity as things stand, so I’ve been researching different farming methods and I think I’ve found some techniques that would help a lot- what crops to grow, how to rotate them, irrigation systems, all sorts of things!”

“You… you have?” Ingrid sounds genuinely surprised. “I’m very grateful for your efforts, please don’t misunderstand, but why would you go through all of that trouble?”

Annette’s voice drops in volume, and Sylvain has to strain to hear what she says next. “Because I care about you. I really, really care about you, and I know that you’re worried about your family, so I wanted to figure out something I could do to help! I might not be the most fabulously wealthy noble there is, but… I still want to support you however I can. So that you can relax and be happy and do all of the amazing things I know you’ll be able to do.”

“...Oh. Oh, Annette, that’s…”

Sylvain really thinks he might have to smack Ingrid upside the head if she doesn’t recognize what Annette is saying.

“A-ah! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

“No, it’s alright. I just wasn’t expecting your answer. You’re remarkably kind.”

Annette’s voice is firm. “It’s what you deserve!”

“If you insist. And... I think I’ll take you up on that dance.”

“You will?! Oh, thank you so much!” Sylvain sees Annette bow out of the corner of his eye, offering her hand to Ingrid, and she leads them out onto the dancefloor.

He winks at Annette over Ingrid’s shoulder as they glide past, but she’s too caught up in gazing at her partner to notice.

-

He’s on his own after Annette and Ingrid take to the dancefloor. But Sylvain has always been good with these sorts of gatherings, and the bright, jovial atmosphere fills him with an energy that he hasn’t gotten to experience in a long while. It’s practically instinct at this point for him to flit around from guest to guest, dancing with some and conversing with others. He’s in his element here, all charming smiles and graceful bows below enchanted lights, conversations interspersed with the occasional veiled innuendo that teeters on the edge of just barely appropriate for polite company. It certainly helps that many of the guests in attendance aren’t the typical noble fare, seeing as a number of Manuela’s connections across the entertainment world have come to celebrate. They make for a fine crowd.

Of course, he makes time to personally congratulate the newlyweds. Manuela is beaming when he makes his way over to them, a drunken flush spread across her face as she leans heavily against her spouse. She giggles like a schoolgirl when Sylvain kisses the back of her hand and outright cackles when Byleth ruins his moment by ruthlessly ruffling his hair and pinching his cheek.

Even as Sylvain playfully bats Byleth’s hands away, he can’t help thinking that this is _nice,_ this silly camaraderie built on a foundation of hard-earned respect. Byleth has a sly grin on their face as they whisper something into Manuela’s ear; whatever they said, it sets her off laughing yet again. He bids them farewell as he notices Byleth’s hand slipping lower and lower down Manuela’s waist and wonders how much longer they’ll bother with the party altogether. Honestly, he’s surprised that they’ve lasted as long as they have.

It’s a while longer before he crosses paths with Dimitri again. He’s handling the crowd admirably well, speaking warmly with the many partygoers who come to greet him, but even from a short distance Sylvain notices the hard set of his jaw and the way the fingers of his free hand curl up to dig into the meat of his palm.

He’s suffered enough, Sylvain decides.

He leaves his empty wine glass on a passing server’s tray and leisurely makes his way over. As the king’s latest gaggle of admirers disperses, Sylvain steps forward with an exaggerated bow. “Enjoying the night’s festivities, your Majesty?”

Dimitri hides his smile behind his hand as Sylvain straightens up. “It is heartening to see everyone in such high spirits.”

“Oh, certainly. If you’ll excuse me being so bold, though,” he says, offering Dimitri his arm, “I was wondering if I could convince you to join me for a stroll outside. I’ve been in need of some fresh air for a while now.”  
  
Dimitri looks conflicted, glancing out over the crowds. “Your offer is tempting, but the Archbishop-”  
  
“Will not mind if you slip away for a while. Besides,” he says, leaning in and lowering his voice. “The last I saw of them, they looked about ready to consummate their marriage on the dancefloor. I’d be surprised if the happy couple were still present themselves.”

“There is no need to be so crass,” Dimitri sighs. “But… I suppose it would not hurt to step outside for a moment.”

 _Success._ Dimitri takes Sylvain’s arm (rather tightly, he notices), and Sylvain deftly leads them through the throngs of people to head on out to the gardens. While the din of the reception still echoes in the background, the cool night air and relative peace is already doing his Majesty a world of good. His grip on Sylvain’s arm relaxes, his jaw unclenches.

“Perhaps I should have left sooner,” Dimitri says thoughtfully as they walk. “I fear that I overestimated my capacity for such extended socialization.”

“Hey, no worries. Big parties aren’t everyone’s thing.”  
  
Dimitri hums. “Perhaps not. If you would rather return, though, please feel free to do so.”

“There’s gonna be plenty of time to rub elbows with the rich and powerful long after this is over. Who knows when the next time I’ll get to have you to myself will be?” Sylvain presses a kiss to his cheek, and he’s convinced there’s no sunset whose beauty could possibly rival the blush that lights up Dimitri’s face.

“I-I suppose you make a fair point- ah, but now that we are alone, that reminds me-” Dimitri pauses, glancing around to confirm that they’re well away from prying ears or eyes. “You must swear to keep what I am about to tell you a secret, do you understand?”  
  
Sylvain blinks a few times. “Uh, yeah, whatever you say.”

Dimitri nods, maintaining his serious expression for a moment longer before it breaks into dazzling excitement. “Dedue and Mercedes are engaged.”

“You’re joking.”  
  
“I would not joke about something so important! Dedue told me a few days ago, but they did not want to make an announcement so close to the Professor’s wedding, and- oh, it has been torturous keeping this to myself,” he says breathlessly. “They are thinking of starting a school together in Fhirdiad, is that not a wonderful idea?”  
  
Sylvain finds himself getting swept up in Dimitri’s elation as he carries on about how happy he is, what a relief it is that Dedue has found his own dreams for the future with someone as strong and kind as Mercedes by his side. He’d be happy for the two of them regardless, but right now all he can focus on is just how beautifully that joy suits Dimitri. “Sounds great.”  
  
Dimitri nods, holding Sylvain’s arm closer. “Forgive me my outburst. I did not think I could carry on for much longer without telling anyone.”  
  
“All good, Mitya.” He’s kind of lost track of where they are at this point, although he supposes there’s not much to worry about if he can still hear faint music trailing out from the ballroom. “Guess you’ve really had weddings on the brain lately, huh?” he says casually. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t already getting offers.”  
  
Dimitri frowns. “I have not bothered to keep track of all I’ve heard tonight. It matters little, as they’ve all been rejected.”

“Yeah? Nothing struck your fancy?”

Dimitri stops them as they step into a small clearing, releasing Sylvain’s arm so he can pull him in by the waist instead. “I will have you know,” he murmurs, using his free hand to tilt Sylvain’s chin up, “that my affections already lie elsewhere.”  
  
Sylvain really hopes that the smile on his face is more sly and roguish than the giddy little thing that he suspects it is. “How scandalous. What handsome devil could’ve possibly stolen the king’s heart?”  
  
“He is a ridiculous man.” Dimitri strokes Sylvain’s jaw with his thumb. “For some reason, he insists on pretending as if he is not the most brilliant, caring, thoughtful person I have ever met. I find that sometimes he requires a reminder.”  
  
“That must get old.”  
  
“Never. If I spend the rest of my life doing so, then it will have been a life well lived.”

“He’s really lucky to have you, then,” Sylvain breathes.

Dimitri smiles and finally lets their lips brush.

-

_With his time split between Gautier territory and Fhirdiad, Sylvain devoted himself to repairing relations with Sreng and to supporting King Dimitri’s reconciliation efforts with Duscur. Sylvain’s skill in oration proved particularly useful in helping to convince nobles across the kingdom that neither Crests nor Relics were necessary for survival. Though their endeavors were a mighty challenge, the couple was unwavering in their dedication to both their causes and to each other. Their efforts and reforms earned them much goodwill among the people of Fódlan, and they were wed in a joyous ceremony shortly after the signing of a historic reparations agreement with Duscur._

_When it was announced that Dimitri would be succeeded not by a child of his own blood, but by the eldest of five crestless orphans adopted by him and his husband, it was celebrated as a sign of their just new social order taking root. It is said that their married life was full of warmth and open affection, surrounded by their children, the two never once taking for granted the love that they shared._

**Author's Note:**

> I really like dimivain
> 
> can’t end this without thanking my incredibly helpful incredibly patient friend juju for helping me with everything from lore questions to characterization advice to just being encouraging and an all-around very cool friend (who also drew art for this fic that you should absolutely go look at [here on twitter](https://twitter.com/bidisasters/status/1333939866254548992) like holy shit she didn’t need to do that but she did)
> 
> overall I’m happy with how this came out. I think I’ve improved since the last fic I posted in april, and I’m looking forward to writing more about these big lads in the future. if nothing else, I just hope people can tell that I really care about sylvain and dimitri and all these dumb emotionally repressed lions and if the game won’t give me the supports and catharsis that they deserve then I’ll fuckin write it myself
> 
> you can find me at erosindomita on twt
> 
> thank you for reading ♡


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